Release Me
by lexi.atel
Summary: After the war, Draco becomes a Healer. His home life stinks. His work life stinks. Pretty much everything just stinks. Dramione. Oneshot. Written for the Platform 9 3/4 FB group's Fanfiction Contest: received reward for "Favorite Pairing Portrayal" (it was a tie).
**Thanks,** ** _Ariel Riddle_ (check out her stories), for the cover photo **hearts****

* * *

He pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly bringing his fingers up to the inner corners of his eyes, pressing into them, focusing on the discomfort instead of the obnoxious rambling going on beside him.

Astoria was on the rampage. _Again_. He was often told that he complained too much, but the people who said that didn't spend enough time with Astoria. _She'd_ take the medal when it came to griping— if there was ever such a thing.

Nothing Draco did was right for her. The Malfoy house-elves irritated her, so she didn't want to use them. She didn't want to do any of the work that the house-elves usually would, so she complained about that too, since her areas of the Manor were always untidy. Ordering meals from a restaraunt was not good enough for her either, as she was used to fancier dishes (made from the same creatures she refused to utilize). She had _one_ house-elf of her own, and it was not suffice enough for all her needs.

"An easy solution would be to have Nubbers do the cooking, and then a couple of mine can do whatever you else you need done," he suggested when she complained that Nubbers (her own house-elf) didn't have time to do everything on her own.

"Oh, but Pully's a horrible clothing washer! And Leafy can't make beds properly! Bones is just—" She shuddered in disgusted. "—well, I can see why he's called Bones, don't you ever feed him?!"

"They're not pets, Astoria," Draco told her, "they take care of themselves. Bones has always been very thin. He eats like a hog and is sprung tight. My family always joked that if we could harvest his energy, it would provide the entire wizard community with light for a century." Draco laughed at this.

His amusement quickly faded when he saw his wife's scowling face. Her hands were on her hips, and she was tapping her foot irritably.

Draco sighed, defeated. "Just do whatever you think you need, Astoria. I don't have the time to nip every bloody problem you have in the bum. If you want another personal house-elf, take your pick from mine—"

"I don't want yours," she interrupted firmly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Then _buy_ one, for Merlin's sake!"

"Don't use that tone with me! I'll not have it! I will not stand for it like your mother did with your father!"

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, counting numbers in his head. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of the chair he sat in.

"Are you tuning me out?!"

"No, dear," he answered simply.

"You're lying!"

"If I was, I wouldn't be answering you!"

Draco yelped in surprised at a sudden discomfort of an ice cold sensation hitting his chest. His eyes flew open in alarm. "You ruined my shirt!" he snarled, pulling the soaked part of the fabric away from his skin, gaping at the large yellow spot.

"I thought you were finished with your drink, dear," she said in a fake, sweet voice. "I do apologize."

"This cost three hundred Galleons, Tori! Merlin!"

Astoria shrugged carelessly. "What's three hundred Galleons to you anyway, you're more upset that I splashed you with your precious Copperdew."

"Yes, and that drink you just dumped costs fifty-three Gallons an ounce!"

She shrugged again and turned her back on him, making her way to exit the room. In frustration, he threw his glass at a wall across the way, shattering it to tiny pieces.

"How much was that glass you just broke, Draco?" she called from the doorway, smirking. "I hope it had only cost you a sickle." Astoria mockingly shook her head at his childlike behavior.

He stared at the shards of broken glass, pursing his lips together. It actually was worth more than the liquor his wife had wasted and the shirt she had ruined combined. It had belonged to his grandmother and was a treasure to his mother.

He dropped his head into his hands, having to swallow down an aching sob that had been brought on from his being exasperated with the choices he had made for his life— or rather the choices he _hadn't_ made for himself.

He should never have listened to a word his father had said. Ever.

*/*

As a former criminal, Draco got stuck with the unpleasant job known as 'field work' in the Healing profession. He was a Healer (obviously), having been given the 'choice' to become one and help the 'community' or else get sent to Azkaban for the remainder of his life; punishment for signing up as a Death Eater.

Naturally, he had chosen the career that had been 'offered' to him. It was demeaning, considering his blood status and wealth, but it was better than rotting away in that horrid prison for Wizards.

And he was good at it. How couldn't he be though? The job was so simple. He was overqualified for it— which was why he had been assigned to it in the first place; they needed him, and they knew that the only way to get him to do it was to blackmail him.

On this particular day, Draco had been sent out to a newly opened school for young Muggleborns that prepared the clueless pre-Hogwarts children for the world they were about to become a part of. The Ministry had opened it up a few months ago as a trial run to see how it would work, projecting that if the Muggleborn children got an earlier start in their magical education, they'd have a better chance with fitting in.

Draco doubted anything would make them fit in easier. They were from another world. They had no chance and would always have the disadvantage.

The school even had a program to allow those who were born into a wizard family to go there and socialize with them on special days. All Draco could think about whenever he saw the school was that he was glad the school wasn't around when he was a young child. He hated to think of having to go in there and associate with the little baby Muggleborns.

Something drastic happened that day at the school though. There had been an attack. Several students were injured from a colony of Bundimuns. From what Draco had overheard, there were some living in a near-by swamp (for educational purposes) and had gotten out of control. There were supposedly six children incredibly injured, and the count was climbing, as the creatures were still on the loose, angry from Merlin knew what.

Upon apparating, Draco and two other Healers were met with sounds of frightful screaming, cries of pain, and shouts of people trying to get things under control.

Draco had no time to take in the scene, immediately running to a small girl who was scrunched up in agony on the ground and shrieking hysterically.

He didn't speak to her as he examined the many wounds caused by the poisonous acid from the monster-pests. He worked hastily, removing the sticky, foul acid with a spell. He pressed his lips together, bracing himself for the girl's screams to heighten a few notches, and they did. He wasn't one to soothe people though, so he continued to work silently, pouring on a potion that would help with her pain.

"Axson!" he called to one of his fellow Healers. The man was quickly by his side, taking over for Draco so he could move on to the next child.

Field work was terrible. Draco was exposed to anything and everything, and still was not used to gruesome sights. He learned not to think about it and just did what needed to be done. As quickly as possible, as best as he could.

And he did. Which could have been why they constantly called him in to work. Even when he was sleeping, they called on him, reminding Draco that he had no choice in the matter when he'd argued that it was in the middle of the night, and he was dead tired.

" _There's always an open cell in Azkaban for you,"_ his boss would often remind him.

They had never given him a promotion either, even though he was the best field Healer they had. They didn't think he 'deserved' it, and that had nothing to do with his performance. It was because of who he was; who he had once _been_.

Not like it mattered though. He didn't need the extra money that the promotion would pay, and anything he said his accompanied Healers would do. They knew that he was better at the job.

And that was why Axson took over when Draco called on him. By then, they all had a routine down: Draco would stabilize the unfortunate victims from whatever predicament that they had gotten themselves into, and if need to be, the others would transport them to St. Mungo's for an extended treatment.

In this case, Bundimun acid burns were a serious thing and would need additional care than he could provide with his portable supplies.

He was down to the last child when he got blasted with a spell that knocked the wind out of him and sent him and the boy off several feet in different directions. Draco clutched his cramping chest, his lungs were aching terribly from the blast to his chest.

"Watch where you're aiming your bloody spells, dammit!" Draco shouted to the Aurors in anger. He didn't even look up, returning to his task, momentarily having to search for the boy who he had recently been tending to.

"I'm scared!" the boy sniveled when Draco approached him. "And it hurts really bad!"

Draco refused to comfort him though. It wasn't in his contract to coddle his patients and tell them that everything was going to be okay.

He healed them, and that was it. That's all his job required.

"Malfoy!" someone called out. "Malfoy, watch out!"

Draco looked up just in time to see one of the hideous swamp monsters lunge at him. The body looked like a pile of wet leaves, but smelled so foul, it nearly made him gag. The odor smelled of rotting flesh and organic manner. Its mouth opened (or so Draco thought it was a mouth, as when a gap at its midsection had been made, a vocal roar erupted from the creature), and he saw green foam gurgle out from it.

Draco's eyes widened in horror, realizing that the creature was preparing an acid attack. He brought up a quick shield, blocking a shot of the green goo from touching him, and then he gathered up the boy he had been kneeling next to into his arms.

He couldn't work here.

He heard a woman scream out his name again, telling him to duck, and Draco was wise enough to listen, dropping to the ground, rolling over many times with the boy clinging to him, trying to get as far away from the beast as he could to avoid getting poisoned by the thing.

The boy was crying now. His face was pressed hard against Draco's chest, and the small hands were bunched up in fists, clutching onto Draco's Healer uniform.

"I want my mummy!"

Ignoring the muffled cry, Draco pried the kid off him and stood up, finally taking in the scene to see what he was up against. He had put too much faith in the Aurors to keep the monsters distracted from he, the wounded and the other Healers.

He had to protect himself.

He soon learned why he had nearly got attacked though. There were so many Bundimuns that the Aurors were out-numbered, roughly ten to one.

"Get him out of here, Malfoy!" Potter shouted over the chaos, speaking about the boy at Draco's feet.

Draco didn't dare to ignore a direct order from the The-Boy-Who-Lived. The man could suggest any change he wanted, and it'd be done without a thought. Such as... sending Draco to prison...

He wasn't on speaking terms with Potter, and Draco didn't want to be either. He couldn't even look Harry Potter in the eye anymore, not after the man had saved him. He was ashamed by the 'choices' he made in the past.

Draco did what he was told without a second guess, just like he did almost every other time in his life: he apparated with the boy to a safehouse nearby St. Mungo's. There, he was greeting by Axson.

"The last one?" Axson asked, taking the sniveling child from him.

"I think so, but they may need us to stick around," Draco advised. "The Aurors are still trying to rein them up."

Axson nodded in acknowledgement and headed off to the fireplace located in the home to Floo to the wizard hospital.

With a deep breath, and a thudding pulse, Draco apparated back to the school that was under attack. He stood back, watching the fighting. Some Aurors were working together. It surprised him none to see Ron Weasley hanging close to Potter, as Potter was a much better fighter.

Other fighters were taking on numerous of the creatures on their own. For the first time, Draco noticed that Hermione Granger was there. He was slightly puzzled at the realization, since she was not an Auror.

She was struggling with a couple of the Bundimun that she was fighting, casting spell after spell to ward them into a retreat. She was smart enough to know that fire was a good offense against that specific creature, but he could tell she was getting tired. Draco had no idea how long this battle had been going on, but he knew it had been enough time to grow exhausted.

The fighting continued. He waited for when he was needed. A command, or a scream, alerting him of his duty.

The Bundimuns were winning... and they were duplicating, having some sort of recruiting system, swarming in like bees, only crawling instead of flying.

At this rate, the creatures were going to win.

"You're doing it all wrong!" Draco called out to anyone who would listen.

"Not now, Malfoy!" Potter snapped.

"You don't know anything!" Weasley said. "We're the Aurors, not you!"

As always, no one would listen to _him_. All because _he_ was an 'evil Slytherin, ex Death-Eater'.

He growled in annoyance. If he didn't do something now, he'd be working all night, healing those bloody fools— _if_ they even made it out of this _alive_.

He walked a few steps forward. "Get out of the way!" he warned Granger, pointing his wand at one of the monsters.

Surprising, she listened, once seeing that his wand was raised to attack the monster. Draco wasted no time, casting the powerful Fiendfyre curse, burning the creature with it. It howled in excruciating pain.

"Malfoy!" Granger yelled at him scoldingly. "Don't kill her! She's a protected—"

"This isn't a bloody educational lesson, Granger," he snapped, but he did released the spell, knowing that killing it was a serious crime.

The Bundimun was even more angry now, and it spat streams of poison, aiming them at Draco. He yelped in pain as the goo hit the pants of his uniform, eating through the clothing and burning his skin.

"Did she get you?!" Granger asked worriedly. She hadn't looked to confirm it, too occupied with casting spell after spell.

"No, I just randomly scream in bloody agony for no reason!"

"You've got to go!" she warned him. "If you don't—"

"I know what happens, Granger! I'm not an idiot!"

But he didn't leave for the hospital. He was angry! He wanted to take that creature down! He wanted revenge!

He continued to fight, assisting Granger with the nasty smelling monsters, blocking out the pain of the poisonous acid with determination, watching irritably as the Bundimuns absorbed each of their harmless spells like they were nothing.

"This isn't working, Granger!"

"I've noticed," she admitted.

"We've got to kill them!"

"We can't!"

"It's us or them! I'm not dying for you, Granger!" Draco warned her. "I'm getting out!"

"We need you, Malfoy!" Granger insisted.

"We're no further than we were ten minutes ago! We need more people!" Draco began backing away.

"Please stay!" she cried.

He ignored her, tired of fighting with his hands tied, and turned his back on the fight.

He didn't understand why they weren't allowed to kill the buggers. Just because they were an 'endangered specie" didn't mean that they should have to put up with them being a hazardous menace. If they didn't want to live in peace and harmony, they should be gotten rid of!

"Malfoy! Look ou—!"

Granger's warning was cut off by an ear piercing scream of pain. And he knew that scream all too well.

It matched one in his past.

He whirled around with widened eyes, seeing Granger hunched over, holding her face. The Bundimuns were approaching her during her moment of weakness, shooting their acid over and over again, her body jerking with each offending impact.

She screamed again.

"Mione!" Weasley began running toward her.

"Ron!" Potter shouted, but it was too late, Weasley ran right into a streak of poison. He bellowed out as it ate through his shirt, touching his skin.

 _To mess with all this,_ Draco thought, once again casting the powerful fire curses at the ones that were attacking Granger. The attack on Granger instantly stopped as the creatures withered back from the painful effect of Draco's spell. They backed up, but Draco wasn't going to let up so easily. He wanted to make sure they knew that it was time to stop.

He followed them with each step, and they wailed the whole while. Draco roasted those buggers until they retreated all the way back into the swamp where they belonged. The fire that had been encased around them smouldered as they sank into the murky water. Smoke hovered above the surface.

Draco hurried back and found that Potter and a few other Aurors had resorted to more pain inflicting spells in an effort to get the creatures under control.

"Use Fiendfyre!" Draco suggested. He lost interest in them though, seeing movement on the ground out of the corner of his eyes.

 _Granger..._

He hurried to his bag that had been left by the building and quickly made his way to her.

"No!" she screamed, grasping her face tightly as he tried pulling her hands away from it. "Stop it!"

He grunted as he pulled at her, surprised by the amount of physical strength she had. "Merlin, Granger, if you don't want any lasting damage, move your damn hands!"

But she didn't listen to him, and by the fact that she was usually a level-headed person, Draco guessed that she was unable to think logically at the moment. The pain was too much.

He didn't blame her. She had quite a few wounds, and most looked awfully bad.

She started kicking at him and throwing punches. "Let me be, let me be!" Finally, Draco just bound her limbs together so he could work without getting physically assaulted.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?! Weasley demanded.

Draco wasn't given time to answer, he was knocked unconscious with a spell.

*/*

"Where have you been?!"

"Not now, Tori," Draco moaned, rubbing his forehead, hoping it would soothe the headache.

"You look a mess!"

"I've had a terrible day, yes." He didn't know why he bothered explaining it to her. All Draco wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep.

He was exhausted, achy and sore. The wound from the swamp monster acid was annoying him. It hadn't been a serious one, thankfully, so he had been able to treat it quickly, but it would annoy him for the next few days while it healed.

He had been gone a total of twenty-eight hours, dealing with the Bundimun outbreak. After Weasley had knocked him out with a spell, Draco woke up to Weasley accusing him of trying to do something Draco would never even have _thought_ of doing.

He shuddered in mild disgust.

To Draco's relief, no one believed Weasley. If he had actually been trying to hurt Granger (especially in such a... _personal_ way), he'd likely get sent to Azkaban. The public treated her like a queen.

Draco did find some enjoyment in the situation when Potter argued against Weasley's accusation. Weasley ended up stalking off after that, claiming that Potter was out of his mind for defending Draco. He was heard muttering curses under his breath.

"Thanks for trying to help," Potter had spoken to Draco.

Draco only did a quick, simple nod, and then he had been called back to work. The field work was complete, now he'd get stuck with treating actual patients in the building.

"I want to have a baby," Astoria said into the dark night as she undressed for bed.

Draco turned over onto his side, tucking his hands under his cheek. He didn't respond right away, trying to think of what to say to that.

"Don't you want an heir? Isn't that why we even got married?"

"Tori, we can't have a conversation one without arguing, and you want to put a child in the mix? No."

"Perhaps the baby would bring us closer together!" she said cheerfully, climbing into bed next to him, settling herself closer than she normally would.

"No, Tori," Draco said firmly. "I'm too busy right now." He surely didn't want to be like his own father had been, caring more about his job and status than his own family.

Draco wanted to be there for his son. When he was a child, he didn't spend time with his father much. Lucius hadn't really wanted to be a father figure. Draco had only been born to keep the name going.

Draco was going to show his son that he was more than just an heir. He was going to love the boy, play with him, and teach him all sorts of things.

And he would let his son make his own choices. Good choices. Choices that would bring a happy future to his bloodline.

The next day, after an actual decent night's sleep, Draco went back to work on his normal schedule. He had been assigned to look over the patients with the Bundimun acid burns. It was dull, simple work, but safe out of harm's way, so he wasn't too upset by it.

"Did you get hurt too?" a muggleborn girl asked after seeing that he was favouring his leg.

"I wouldn't be limping around if I hadn't, would I be?"

The young girl looked away, frightened by the irritated tone he used with her.

"Where's your mother?" he asked impatiently. "Or your father? I need one of them present to apply the ointment to your sores."

The girls eyes flickered to him just for a split moment before they fell to her hands. She had a burn on one of them.

"Well?!" he pressed. "I can't go on without their witnessing!"

She started whimpering loudly, and then she blubbered. "They're dead!" she shrieked out.

Draco rolled his eyes and darted out of the room, calling someone to handle her problem, as it was out of his hands now. Her guardian would need to be notified before he could do anything with her.

One patient down, fifteen more to go.

Everything went relatively smoothly until Draco got to patient number nine. It wasn't actually the male teacher he was tending to that was the problem, but rather the victim next door to him, who had just woken up from a sleep and was screaming in pure agony.

The tiny hairs on Draco's neck stood straight up, recognizing the scream. He'd know it from anywhere. It haunted him in his sleep every so often.

A sharp, shiny blade came to the surface of his mind. He quickly shook his head, burying the horrid memory deep within.

"You alright, Heal?" the patient asked. His burns had been pretty gory, but the school teacher was handling it okay, his pain potions still in effect.

Draco ignored the question. He wasn't here for chitchatting.

"That poor woman," the man sympathized. "They did a real number on Granger, didn't they?" He sighed, frowning. "I hear she got the worst out of all of us!"

"Oi, Healer Malfoy!" Draco's name was shouted, calling for his attention. "We need you in here!"

Draco cast a quick cleansing spell on his hands and hurried into the room next door where the screaming got louder. Five Healers were trying to hold Granger down while the one was trying to administer a potion.

"I can't see!" Granger was screaming. "What's wrong?! What going on?! What are you doing to me?!" She was wiggling from the grasps of many hands, acting all nutty. There was a red glow coming from her, and it was darkening quickly. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

"Help us!" a female Healer demanded. "She's so strong! She's unable to control her magic right now, too upset!"

Draco waved his wand, sending the woman into a sleep. Her body twitched underneath the group of people who were holding her down to the bed. One by one, they released her, eyeing her over in deep concern.

"She just started attacking us!"

"She's gone mental!"

"No, Miss Granger's only in severe pain, that's why she attacked us!"

"She's feverish," Draco informed the others who were paying no attention to the patient now. They were not as skilled or as educated as him, else they would have noticed her condition.

 _New graduates, perhaps..._

"Feverish!" one said, "I'll go get—"

"It won't work."

"Why not?"

Draco tilted his head up toward the ceiling, shutting his eyes in frustration. St. Mungo's hired such _idiots_ anymore.

"Because you _thick_ headed, _undereducated_ fool, she's got an infection from her wounds! It's in her blood stream now, _poisoning_ her! You can't give her a fever reducer for something like _this_!"

"Oh..." the Healer's face fell, embarrassed.

"Well, you don't have to be an arse about it!" one of the Healers defended the other.

"If the lot of you weren't so brain dead—"

"That's enough, Healer Malfoy," a deep, stern voice ordered of him.

Draco stiffened and turned around to the man that had spoken. "Master Healer," he greeted, his voice matching his body stance.

"You six," Draco's boss gestured to the idiotic bunch of Healers, "take a break."

They dashed out quickly, eager to get away from the man who had full control of their jobs.

"Let's have a little talk," the Master Healer said, closing them inside Granger's room.

*/*

"Why are you thundering around?!" Astoria snapped, glaring at Draco. "You made me ruin the portrait that I was painting! Scared the lights out of me!"

"I don't want to talk right now," Draco told her, clenching his fists tightly to stop himself from snatching up another chair and tossing it out the window. He was just so angry with everything going on in his life at the moment! _Nothing_ was ever right!

"I'm sure _that_ is not going to be a cheap fix," she sneered, speaking about the broken floor-to-ceiling sized window. "Come to bed," she tried coaxing him. "We can have a little—"

"We're not having baby right now, Tori. I told you enough already!"

"I want one though!"

" _I don't have the time_!"

"You would if you came home earlier, maybe you do so for a reason..." Her face darkened. "You're not seeing Pansy behind my back, are you?!"

Draco groaned. "For the last time, I'm not sneaking around with Pansy—"

"Daph saw you!"

"And Daphne's jealous of you, so she's going make up rubbish about me."

"She is _not_! My sister doesn't want you, Draco! She warned me about you! I should have taken her advice!"

"You had no choice but to," Draco retorted snarkily. "It was me or that ugly fellow in Hufflepuff who cries all the time!"

"It's not like you're any better!" she shouted at him, throwing a paintbrush at his head. He ducked before it could hit him in the face.

Draco flew up from his seat and stalked out of the room. His wife followed closely behind, flapping her mouth. "Where are you going now?!" she demanded angrily when he had reached for his outdoor robes and put them on.

"Out!" was all he answered with, and stepped into the floo, saying no more.

By the time he had gotten to Granger's room, he had walked off a bit of his steam. Astoria had issues with listening to him, which was strange, since she always wanted him to talk to her about his 'feelings', because it was 'good for their marriage'.

He didn't speak about his feelings though. Not the ones he suppressed deep within.

He just wanted to go home and be in peace after his long hours of managing to keep his cool around people, but his wife didn't seem to want to give him that.

Draco had been assigned as Granger's main Healer, which basically meant that, unless something catastrophic happened, he was only to tend to her.

Draco sat down in a chair, grunting unhappily. Merlin, his life was a lousy one. A whiny, good for nothing wife, a pitiful job, and now this: spending over half his day with the one person he could never stand being around.

At least she was asleep and would be for an estimation of three weeks, as he had put her into a magical coma for her wounds to heal long enough for her to bear the pain of them.

He was going to do anything he could to help her heal better. The warning from his boss played over and over in his head.

" _If anything happens to Miss Granger, Healer Malfoy, you'll never see the sun again. There shall be no excuses. You will commit your entire work life—actually, make that your entire_ personal _life— to that woman!"_

He stared at Granger, swallowing back cries of fear. The burns on her were very serious. Now that his own life depended on her survival, all he could do was pray, because... the odds of her making it through this was extremely low.

And he certainly didn't want his life to get any darker than it already was.

*/*

A week later, he stirred awake, hearing a moan of discomfort. He looked across the way, a little puzzled at first, because he was groggy from sleep but realized that he had dozed off in a chair in Granger's room.

Draco hadn't wanted to go home and have Astoria nag off a list of things that wasn't up to her expectations. This included his refusal to have a baby. He was sick of having to go home, dog dead tired, needing sleep, only to have her attempt to seduce him, turning angry when he wasn't interested.

And she was constantly accusing him of sleeping around.

Granger continued to moan in her 'sleep'. The fever was getting worse. She was sweating like someone who had just ran ten laps nonstop.

"No!" Draco heard her faintly whisper. Then she screamed, making him jump a mile.

He ran over to her, waving his wand, hastily casting spells to ease her back into solitude. None of it worked though.

Granger grasped onto his arm, squeezing it tightly, making him hiss in pain as she cut off his circulation. He frantically tugged at her, trying to break loose from her hold.

"Granger!" he cried helplessly. "Let me go!"

"Let me go!" she repeated in her deep sleep. Her head rolled over to the side before she went completely still, though she was still moaning.

"Please! Please don't hurt me!" she whispered fearfully.

Draco stood there, watching her. Her breathing was quick. Her forehead dripped beads and beads of sweat. Granger was having a one-sided conversation now, though Draco could only make out a few words.

"Is it over yet?" she asked with a murmur. Her fingers loosened at his arm, and then she went limp.

Draco slowly backed away from the bed. The infection was doing this to her. This was not good. She was falling deeper and deeper into it.

There was nothing more he could physically do. It was all up to her. Was she strong enough to pull through?

Draco hoped she was!

He was so anxious to see her get better, that he started staying around the clock to keep an eye on her. Her friends (well, most of them) didn't like this, but he had been given orders by the Master Healer, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, unless the patient herself made a complaint.

He was not abusing her in anyway, much to Weasley's insisting that Draco was. Granger was 'in good hands', Draco had once overheard his boss say to Potter, who surprised Draco by agreeing.

If he wasn't so concerned with Granger's condition, he would have felt a bit good when he heard that.

But none of that mattered to him anymore. He needed to make sure he stayed out of Azkaban.

*/*

"Malfoy! Malfoy!" a person hastily was calling his name from outside the bathroom he was in. Rapid pounding followed.

"I'm a little busy!"

"It's Miss Granger, Malfoy! She's awake!"

Impossible! He had her under a coma spell, how could she—

Unless someone lifted the spell off her...?

But no one would; _he_ was her main Healer, he had final say on what was done with her.

Draco heard her screams as he emerged from the bathroom, and when he got to her room, it was crammed with people.

"Get out of the way!" He grabbed a male Healer by the back of his uniform, pulling him from the crowd, announcing who he was. "I'm her Main!" he repeated over and over until he had finally gotten into the core of the group.

"Don't cast anything!" he ordered, placing his hand on an extended wand that was pointed at her. "She's vulnerable under the sleep—"

"She's awake! Can't you see?!" a woman argued.

"Granger!" Malfoy called out her name.

She didn't even respond, her eyes wide and blank. "She's incoherent," Draco explained. "No spells shall be cast. Get her to the bed— _gently_! Merlin, she's not a troll!" Draco scowled at a bigger Healer, who was known to be clumsy.

They really needed to see about restructuring the Healer training program.

*/*

During his time as Granger's Main, he found he didn't want to go back to the Manor, Astoria was worse than ever, having become jealous because Draco had spent night and day with Granger.

"You're such a hypocrite!" she had shrieked one day. "You told me that Muggleborns were filth, you tried making me break my friendship off with Tessa, because of her Muggle parents, and then you go and do that?!"

"If you would actually _listen_ to something I say for a change, you'd know that I have no bloody choice!"

"Tell them that you can't do it anymore!"

"I can't!"

"No, you just won't! You're pathetic! You're a slimy, little coward, never having the guts to stand up and do one thing for yourself! I hate you!"

Draco took a moment before replying, letting the words sink in, thinking them over.

 _It is not my fault,_ he decided. Not this time. He did the best he could, doing what he had to. He tried being realistic about the things his wife wanted him to do, wanting to make the best of things, wanting a different life for himself and whatever future son he may have.

She didn't understand though. Astoria didn't even _care_ that if Draco didn't do what he was told, he'd be sent away, never to be seen again.

He _had_ made a decision for himself: he didn't want to be a prisoner of Azkaban.

"Those are harsh words," he said bitterly, hurt by them.

"Well, it's the truth!" she said with a huff.

He nodded and turned his back, readying himself to head back to St. Mungo's where he was at least made useful, even if they threatened him into doing it. "I'll see you in the morning then."

"Perhaps you won't!" Astoria retorted stubbornly.

Draco wasn't going to stop her either way.

*/*

"What's going on?!"

Granger was finally released from the spell after Draco spent nineteen days healing her wounds. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to fix her eye sight.

"It's alright, Mione," Weasley spoke softly.

"I can't see! I'm not alright!"

"Just lay back and relax."

But Granger wasn't going to relax. She was confused, in pain, and she was blind. She demanded to know what was going on.

"How... How long will I be like this?" she asked shakily when everything had been explained to her. "Is it permanent?"

"We have high expectations that you'll get your eyesight back—"

"Cut the rubbish, Master Healer," Draco interrupted with a low voice. "Tell her the truth. She deserves to know."

"The truth?" She aimlessly moved her head around, trying to see the people surrounding her.

"There's a high chance the acid from the attack has taken your eyesight completely," Draco informed when no one had the guts to just say it.

"Malfoy?" she questioned. "Is that... you?"

"It is," he answered from where he stood at the door.

Granger leaned back against the headboard of the bed she sat in. "What are my options?"

She said nothing more about Draco's presence.

Draco left then. She'd live, though she would be blind for a while, if not for her entire remaining life. But as long as she lived, that's all that mattered.

*/*

"Miss Granger would like to speak to you."

"She's not my responsibility anymore," Draco told Axson. "She has a new Main now."

"They haven't assigned her a replacement yet, you're still her Main."

Draco grumbled under his breath. He knew he had no choice but to go see what the bloody Muggleborn wanted.

"Is that you, Malfoy?" she asked when he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"It is."

"I was told that it was you who saved me from the Bundimun infection."

"Everyone else was being an idiot about it," Draco explained. "Bundimun infections don't occur often, so none of the graduates had experienced it yet."

"No, they don't occur often." Granger frowned. "The female Bundimun was with child, which is why—"

"I know this already, Granger," he cut her off shortly. "You didn't call me to give me a Care of the Magical Creatures lecture, did you? Because, frankly, I'm not interested."

"There's a procedure that can be done to fix my eyesight," she said. Her head tilted toward his direction. "They tell me it's a complicated one."

He nodded, though she couldn't see him do it. "It's extremely complicated."

"Have you done it before?"

"No, and I am not interested in doing it either."

"I would like you to."

He set a hand on the doorknob, turning it, ready to make his leave.

"Please, Malfoy? I trust you enough to do it... You've... _changed_ since school."

He stood there, rigid as a lamp post, unsure how he felt about hearing those words from her— the person he used to be so spiteful to. He had been horribly awful to her back then.

He actually regretted doing it and had so for years.

"Only if you're willing to sign a statement saying that if I foul this up, I'm not going to be held responsible. You must agree in writing that I warned you of the complications that can happen during this specific procedure."

"I will," she said firmly, lifting her chin up bravely.

"I'll have the papers delivered to you by the end of the day." He said no more, exiting the room, in absolute disbelief that she was willing to take the chance in going completely _bonkers_ for the slim possibility to be able to see again. All the while, _trusting_ him, having _faith_ in him that he could cure her.

She probably had more belief in him than he did of himself, but if this was what the queen wanted, this was what the queen was going to get. No doubt, his boss would have made him do it anyway, should he had at first refused Granger's request.

At least this way, his arse would be covered from liability.

*/*

"Your wife doesn't mind that you spend so much time away from home?"

Draco lowered his wand, caught off guard by Granger's sudden question. They had been at this for a couple of weeks now, and neither of them had spoke anything about their personal lives.

Granger was staying at St. Mungo's throughout the duration of the treatment, as the side effects could give her suicidal thoughts, leading to self mutilation. Draco was there off and on every day to make sure everything went smoothly.

Draco regained himself a few moments later, raising his wand back up to her forehead, running a diagnostic test. He refrained from cleaning his throat, uncomfortable by her question.

"I'm sorry," she said when he didn't answer, sounding sincere. "I didn't mean to pry, I'm just naturally curious."

"Nosey, more like," Draco corrected her dryly.

Granger laughed softly. "Yes, I suppose that's a more appropriate word."

He paused his work again, surprised that she had laughed at something he had said.

"Everything seems okay so far," he announced when he was finished with the spells.

"Thank you for this."

"Don't worry about." He shrugged it off. "I'll be back before they serve the evening meal."

It took several weeks and a few months, before Draco finally opened up to Granger about his wife, informing her that Astoria had left him months before. They were still married, but that was only because he hadn't scheduled an appointment to meet with someone from the Ministry to sign a few papers and cast a few spells that would break their magical union.

"Why didn't you want kids?" Granger asked after learning the reason for Astoria's leaving.

"I do want kids. Well, one, maybe two, I don't know, but it wasn't the right time then. I had too much going on," He further explained his thoughts about the subject, feeling comfortable talking to her about things. He never felt like he could talk to someone like this until Granger came around.

Well, that was until they spent months together anyway, getting to know each other more than by name.

"I'm glad you changed, Malfoy." She tapped his arm gently. "I like this Draco Malfoy much better than the one I used to know."

"I do too." He stared down at her hand which was still touching him. He felt a flutter in his stomach. His heart rate picked up. So did his breathing.

 _What is this?!_

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." He put distance between them, putting a hand to the location where she just had hers at, looking down at it. "I'm fine."

He was lying though.

Days went on. Draco found himself growing excited as each one passed, looking forward to his time spent with Granger— he actually called her Hermione now, as they had become fairly good friends.

He hadn't had many real friends before, and he was lucky to have her. They joked around, and had lunches together every day, played games, and talked about subjects that they both were interested in.

Hermione got to meet a few of his house-elves and was surprised to learn that he treated his much differently than Dobby had been treated by his father.

"That was my father's doing... Not mine," he had told her uneasily when she had mentioned it.

"How do you feel today, Hermione?" he asked one day.

"It's all blurry," Hermione informed him. "No colour yet."

"We might get some colour today," he said hopefully. "But let's not completely expect it."

She nodded, and then he went to work, carefully casting a few spells, tweaking a few things in her head.

"Tell me if this hurts." His voice sounded a little absent, as he was concentrating hard.

"No— _OW_! Okay, _that_ hurt!"

Draco canceled the spell. She was rubbing her eye. "Does your eye hurt?"

"No, it just itches!" she huffed. "It _really_ itches!"

Draco caught a hold of her wrist and pulled it from her eye. "Don't do that," he scolded. "It'll just make it worse, you know it." He almost took her hand into his, wanting to squeeze it to try and comfort her, but decided against it.

Hermione wiggled around in frustration, grunting. "Make it stop itching!" she whined.

Draco laughed. "I can't, you'll have to stick it out. The itching's good though," he assured her.

"It is?"

"Yes, it's a forward motion. I'm beginning to think you actually might get your sight back, Hermione."

She squealed in excitement, bolting up from her sitting position on the bed and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him close to her. "Thank you, Draco! I owe you so much!"

And before he could say anything, her lips touched his cheek.

Since she did that, it was pretty much all he could think about. His feelings for her had been growing, but the kiss, as innocent as it was, had only increased those feelings. He started dreaming about her when he slept. At first, they had been clean and childish, but the more he saw her, the deeper his feelings got.

It took him another month and a half to realize that he was in love with her.

*/*

"I—I can see!" Hermione shrieked, almost a year after they started her treatment.

"You can?" Draco asked in pure excitement, his heart practically leaping out of his chest.

"Yes! Oh, everything's so clear, Draco," she cried, real tears falling down her face. "I don't know how I can thank you! You're just so wonderful!" She crashed into his arms, where he embraced her, hugging her tightly to him, never wanting this moment to end.

"You're welcome, Hermione, your kindness is all that I'd ever ask for."

 _Loving me would be a bonus though_.

He couldn't bring himself to say that.

*/*

"What happened to you and Ron Weasley? Weren't you a couple at one time?"

"Ron and I quickly discovered that we wouldn't make a decent couple. We're still friends though."

"Oh."

They were at his Manor, he had invited her over for dinner.

"And you never tried dating another man?"

"I went on dates, but no, I never had a real boyfriend after Ronald."

"Can I ask you something?" Draco asked very slowly.

Hermione smiled. "Of course! Anything!"

"Would you consider dating anyone— right now?"

She had just grabbed her glass and made to bring it to her lips when he asked the question. The glass stopped halfway to its destination, as she took that moment to look him in the eye, searching for answers to her own questions in them.

"Do you mean yourself? Or do you have someone else in mind?"

Draco about choked, having not expected her to catch on to where he was going to lead with her answer. He wiped his clammy palms with a napkin. "Yes," he said, his voice just above a whisper, "I was referring to myself."

Her smile widened into a smirk. "I was wondering when you'd gather the nerve to ask me!"

"Really?" His eyes lit up, realizing that he may have a chance with her. "How come you didn't ask me out yourself?"

Hermione giggled. "You have no idea how adorable you are when you're nervous!" She set her glass down and stood up, motioning him to do the same. "Kiss me, you fool! I've certainly waited long enough!"


End file.
